


Idle Hands

by E707



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137cest, Established Relationship, Incest, M/M, rickmorty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E707/pseuds/E707
Summary: Morty squinted in concentration as he tried very hard to listen. He wanted so badly to be listening, but just breathing was proving difficult enough, and the chunk of steak he had cut was growing cold on his fork as Rick's hand slid steadily up his thigh.





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get the image of Rick wanking Morty off in front of the family out of my head, so here we are. Set during the events of Season 3, Morty is whatever age you want him to be.

"There was nothing I could have done." Beth said, draining her wine glass of it's very last dregs. "That horse was determined to die. If eight hours of surgery and the best damn horse surgeon in the country couldn't save him, then nothing would."

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room. Morty squinted in concentration as he tried very hard to listen. He wanted so badly to be listening, but just breathing was proving difficult enough, and the chunk of steak he had cut was growing cold on his fork as Rick's hand slid steadily up his thigh.

"I don't even care what Ethan does," Summer was saying, "if he's going out with Tricia tonight, he can't text me at two in the morning for a booty call."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Morty tried to dislodge Rick's hold on his leg, to shove his grandfather's hand away as the old man began palming the front of his jeans, but there was only so much he could struggle before it became glaringly obvious that something untoward was happening below the table, and Rick was strong, so much stronger than him.

"It's not like I _don't_ have a job," Jerry said, around a mouthful of peas. "I do have a job! These things just take time. It's a foolproof system, Beth. First I buy my starter kit, then I find other investors to buy theirs, and then they find more investors, and we all make money! Everybody wins!"

Morty tried to fight it, begged himself not to rise to Rick's coaxing. _Not here, not now,_ he told himself - but time had made Rick a professional, and he knew just where to touch Morty to get him going, how hard to press and for how long.

When Rick hooked a finger into the clasp of his grandson's fly, Morty held his breath, felt sure that everyone sitting at the table could hear the painstaking _click, click, click_ of the teeth of his zip as it was dragged open, and the satisfied grunt that Rick made as he finally reached inside.

"What about you, Morty?" His father asked, turning to him with shining, guileless eyes. "How's my little champ?"

The sound that Morty made as Rick wrapped thin, calloused fingers around his hardening erection was so gratified, so poorly hidden behind the desperate cough that followed it. "A-all good, dad. N-nothing going on in - in Mortyland!"

He laughed, a little too loud and a little too close to a whine at the end, and Rick tugged him hard in warning, as though to say _'calm down'_ or _'don't ruin this'_.

Morty shoved a forkful of mashed potato in to his mouth and swallowed roughly, his skin smouldering as Rick settled into an even pace, dragging his hand from the base of Morty's cock to the tip and down again with practiced ease.

Entirely without his permission, his legs opened, back arched, and even Rick's breath hitched when Morty let escape a low, soft moan.

"Are you alright, Morty?" His mother asked, brow creasing in concern.

"T-these potatoes are great, mom!" He answered, shakily, and Rick squeezed him gently, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Fuckin' great potatoes, Beth." Rick agreed, voice strained and guttural.

"Oh," Beth's face lit up. "Thanks, dad."

Morty bit down on a choked cry as Rick's hand twisted, his knee bumping the table loudly, dishes clanging.

"Stop kicking me, Morty!" Summer snapped, driving the heel of her foot into Morty's shin, entirely worsening his already quickly unravelling composure.

"S-sorry!" Morty yelped, shrilly.

"What's going on with you tonight, Morty?" Jerry asked, frowning. "Something happen at school, buddy?"

"N-no dad," Morty fought the full-body convulsion that rippled over his skin as Rick swept a finger over the head of his cock, wet with pre-come. "I-I-I'm not - I'm ok!"

"Are you sick?" Beth leaned across the table and Morty's heart leapt into his throat as she placed one cool, finely-boned hand against his brow. "You do have a temperature..."

Morty ducked away from her, buried his face in his hands to stifle the sob that rose to his lips as Rick began to pick up the pace.

"Y-you know what, I am f-feeling sick," Morty stuttered at last, and made an attempt to stand, tugging his shirt low. "I-I-I think I'm gonna go to my room!"

"Now, hold on there, Morty." Jerry said, and laid a hand on Morty's shoulder that made his stomach churn. "This is our weekly family dinner! Don't run off so quickly."

"We have family dinner every day," Beth retorted, filling her fourth glass of wine just as Rick finally reached inside his own pants, began jerking himself off in time with Morty. "You just aren't invited."

"Guys, please," Summer pleaded, tearfully, and Morty was seeing stars. "Don't start this again!"

Under the guise of reaching across the table for the bowl of Diane sauce, Rick leaned close to Morty's ear, pressed the nail of his thumb into the weeping, tender slit of Morty's erection as he whispered; " _good boy_."

Morty let loose a strangled, wanton cry, all eyes trained on him, and he came. Euphoria, mixed with bitter humiliation, swept through his entire body.

The world turned white.

With a howl of frustration, Morty ripped his helmet off.

"That's it, Rick!" His voice cracked as he launched himself unsteadily to his feet, and the bright neon lights of the seedy alien pleasure suite swam into spotty focus. "T-that's the last time I let you decide our date simulation!"

Rick rose from his own virtualilty pod languidly, a lazy, satisfied smile plastered across his face. "Don't be such a - a fucking killjoy, Morty. It's no big deal."

"N-no big deal?" Morty barked, his voice bouncing off of the dirty lime green walls as he tugged his rented, soiled bathrobe around himself tightly. "I could be scarred for life! Touching me l-like that with my whole family sitting right there-"

"Except it wasn't _real,_ " Rick replied, hardly seeming to care that a similar stain was seeping into the plush off-white fabric of his own robe. "No consequences, remember? That's the whole idea. This place was built for pe _EOU_ rverts like you and me, to live out our sick fantasies and get our rocks off _without_ it ruining our lives."

" _Your_ sick fantasies, you mean. A-and don't even pretend like you knew what was going on in there! You thought it was real, just as much as I did, but t-that didn't seem to stop you!"

"You're lucky I didn't climb under the table," Rick murmured huskily, gathering Morty to his chest even as the boy struggled against him. "Those noises you were making... that was real - real sexy, Morty."

Morty's face burned. He knew he should put up more of a fight, should at least try to reign in Rick's more dangerous impulses where their relationship was concerned, but what could he say? He had gotten off on it as much as Rick had.  

He didn't try to squirm away as Rick leaned down and pressed his lips to Morty's neck, soft and sated. Nor did he object to Rick's hands wandering beneath the confines of his robe, even as Morty's gaze drifted to the flickering light of the security drone watching them from the ceiling.

Clearly there was something wrong with the both of them.

"Come on, Morty, round two," Rick goaded, breath hot and teasing against Morty's ear. "Your pick."

"Well..." Morty said, hesitantly. "I h-have thought, you know, at times... what if, like, what if you were chained to a wall, or something, maybe captured by groflomites-"

"You had me at 'chained'."


End file.
